


Physical Activity

by dandelionwhiskey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 13:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/979590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionwhiskey/pseuds/dandelionwhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean convinces Cas to try out the motel gym.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physical Activity

On [livejournal](http://pbrtallcan.livejournal.com/1244.html) or below.

* * *

“No, Cas, take that off.”

Cas emerges from the bathroom, wearing his designated Work Out Clothes. He tugs at his borrowed gym shorts, which are riding a little high, and pulls down on the faded Metallica t-shirt. Dean gives him a pointed look, nodding toward the pristine tan trench coat that Cas is still wearing.

“Why do I have to take it off?” Cas complains.

“Because you look ridiculous,” Dean says, sitting on the edge of the motel bed and tying his sneakers. Castiel looks down at himself, and back up to Dean.

“I look fine.”

“It's not my job to nurture your blossoming fashion sense. Besides, it'll get in the way and you'll overheat.”

Castiel sighs with annoyance, shrugging off the jacket. Dean tracks the movement, watching Cas carefully lay the coat over the paisley armchair in the corner of the room. Dean withheld a smile, hopping to his feet.

“Much better.”

“I still don't understand why you asked me to do this, Dean. I don't require exercise.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Everyone needs exercise, Cas. Even Angel of the Lords. Besides, Sam isn't around and it's easier to work out with a partner. So, you're all I got.”

“Angels of the Lord,” Cas corrects gently.

“What?” 

Castiel shakes his head, watching Dean lean down and touch his toes. “Where are we going to 'work out'?” The stilted way Cas' mouth moves around the unfamiliar phrase draws a grin to Dean's face. 

“The motel's gym room,” he says, escorting Castiel out the door of their room. “C'mon, I'll buy you a Gatorade.” 

They make a quick stop at the vending machines, where Dean shoves a cold, orange drink into Castiel's hands. He looks at it with great suspicion, ignoring Dean's exasperation as he cradles it delicately. The weight room is small and unoccupied, housing two treadmills, two weight benches, and two exercise balls. Castiel does not like Dean's disappointed expression and attempts to look pleased in response. Dean appears to notice this and relaxes slightly, clapping his hands together.

“All right, well, they're not the best digs, but they'll have to do.”

Castiel nods determinedly. “What's first, Dean?”

Dean directs Castiel through some simple stretches, his hands straightening Cas' hips and sliding across his arms. Cas picks it up quickly, feeling the comfortable tug on his vessel's muscles and adjusting accordingly. Dean clicks his tongue in admiration, returning to his own stretches while vocally guiding Cas through his. 

“I believe I'm ready,” Cas says. Dean nods, shaking out his limbs. 

“Okay, we'll start with push-ups,” he says, taking position. Cas studies him a moment then follows, his position slightly off. “Lower your ass a little,” Dean coughs. 

They focus on push-ups silently, Castiel keeping his eyes locked on Dean as he mimics his movements. They move nearly in tandem, Cas falling only slightly behind Dean's brutal pace. Once Dean pushes himself up to his feet, Castiel stumbles after him, chest heaving a little stronger than Dean's.

“All right there, Cas?”

“I'm... fine,” Cas breathes, eyes narrowing. “What's next?”

Dean laughs, amused, and resists squeezing Castiel's shoulder. “Let's try sit-ups.” 

They get through sit-ups, jumping jacks (“Dean, who is Jack?” “There's no one named Jack, Cas.” “That makes no sense.”), an a half-mile on the treadmill before Castiel throws his hands up, leaping off of the machine. Dean looks over at the angel in surprise, slowing his jog.

“What's up?”

“Dean, what is this?” Cas demands, glaring at his friend. 

“...What?” Dean hops off his own treadmill, cracking his neck and running in place a little. “What's what?”

“This! You said this was meant to be a stress reliever,” Cas spits. “I am not relieved. I am STRESSED.”

“Whoa. Well, I guess it's not the greatest at first, but come on. You're not actually tired, are you?”

Castiel rolls his eyes so hard Dean is worried they might tumble right out of his skull. “I am an Angel of the Lord, Dean, I'm not expended. My vessel, however, is perspiring, causing an unpleasant sticking sensation all over my torso; my chest is sore, and I have stabbing pains in my legs every time I take a step.”

Dean cringes. “Oof, shin splints, sorry, dude.”

“I will ask you again, what is this? Is this some sort of submissive torture technique humans use to punish themselves for their insurmountable guilt?”

Dean stares at Cas, running a hand through his hair. “Dude, what we did today was a light workout by ten-year-old-girl standards. We hardly did anything.”

“I just don't see the merit.”

“Endorphins, you know? Releasing all that negative mojo? Deep breathing and shit? It's good for the body, Cas.”

Castiel crosses his arms over his chest. “There must be other ways to achieve the same result which are more pleasurable and less miserable,” he laments, looking hard at the floor.

Dean laughs, deeply, and shakes his head. “You're pouting.”

“I am absolutely not pouting.”

“You are an Angel of the Fucking Lord and you're pouting because I made you run half a mile.” Dean sees Cas' dark expression and sighs happily. “Aw, relax, buddy. Drink your Gatorade.”

Castiel glares daggers at the orange drink sitting in the corner of the room, nose crinkling in distaste. “I fail to see how that will erase the last hour from my memory.”

“God, you're such a drama queen. Was it really that bad?”

Castiel considers this. He thinks about watching Dean run, seeing the sweat gather at his temples, drip down the curve of his jaw. He thinks about seeing that sliver of skin revealed at Dean's hip every time he raised his arms to do a jumping jack. He considers the way Dean looks now, flushed and red, exasperated but affectionate. 

“Not all bad,” he concedes, and Dean nods with triumph. Castiel watches Dean evenly, not moving, and Dean's smile slips a little. Cas lets his eyes wander down, and lets himself pretend not to notice Dean shifting his weight uncomfortably. When he meets Dean's eyes again, the man looks conflicted, eyebrows knit together. Cas tilts his head curiously, lips parting to speak, before Dean interrupts him.

“Why don't you head back to the room, Cas? I'll finish up here on my own.”

“Okay, Dean. If that's what you want,” Castiel says, taking a tentative step backwards. Dean lets him.

“Yeah, why don't you go, uh, shower. I'll throw another few miles on the treadmill and meet you back there.”

Castiel waits a moment, but Dean just looks at him. He takes another step back, turning toward the door. Dean doesn't stop him. Castiel leans over and grabs the orange Gatorade, tipping it towards his friend in a “cheers.” Dean smiles, but this time it doesn't reach his eyes. 

Castiel leaves the weight room, confusion heavily settled behind his eyes. His head hangs low, shoulders hunched, wondering how this body language reflects the storm of emotions shuffling around in his head. He blinks, hard, trying to clear his mind. He unscrews the cap of the orange drink, and takes a tentative sip. He scrunches his nose at the flavor.

“Do you like it?”

Cas jumps at Dean's voice, turning to face the hunter. Dean keeps walking towards him, crowding him up against the nearest wall. 

“Do you like it?” Dean repeats, and Cas looks at the bottle that's still in his hand, the cool concrete wall pressed up against his overheated back. Castiel swallows. He remembers this from his observation of humanity over the past two thousand years. He remembers innuendo, and suggestiveness, and subtlety. He takes a deep breath.

“It's unusual. It's different. But I see its merit.”

“Do you?” Dean asks, his hand pressing against Castiel's shoulder, thumb pressing into his collarbone. 

“I wish it could realize how much merit it has,” Castiel tries.

Dean's face scrunches up and Castiel is momentarily concerned he made a grave mistake. But Dean is shaking with laughter, suddenly, his face pressed into Cas' neck, huffing hot breaths out over his skin. Castiel frowns.

“You wish the Gatorade could understand how important it is to you?” Dean pulls back and laughs, eyes wrinkled. Cas rolls his eyes.

“I was being allegorical, Dean.”

“Look at all those big words you're using,” Dean breathes quietly, hands on Cas' chest, stroking the Metallica label absently. Castiel just watches him, trying to catch his eyes, but Dean is doing his damnedest to keep them locked to Cas' throat.

“Feigning ignorance does not become you,” Castiel mumbles, and Dean's eyes snap to his. Finally.

“All right then,” Dean murmurs. And he tilts his head down and kisses Castiel, who accepts it graciously. Dean pulls away and Cas watches him. “Was that okay?”

Cas considers the question. “It was okay. Not great.”

Dean freezes momentarily at the answer, then allows himself to laugh again. Cas beams. 

“I guess I'll have to up my game, then. Can we go back to the room?”

“Yes,” Castiel says. “I believe you said showers were in order.”

Dean nods absently, dragging Cas back toward their room. “Right, yeah, showers.”

“What time does Sam get back?” Cas asks as they stumble into the room. Dean shoves him up against the closed door, mouth finding the angel's neck.

“Who cares?” He says, muffled against Cas' skin.

///

Sam lays his hand on the doorknob of the hotel room, then pauses. He leans in a moment, listening, then recoils sharply. “Fucking Dean,” he grumbles, shucking his bag back onto his shoulder and making his way toward the hotel lobby to request a new room.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was as much fun to read as it was to write :D For tumblr user [fandomdeathwithhonor](http://fandomdeathwithhonor.tumblr.com)!


End file.
